


Not the Type

by BlairFagin



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Cheating, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5918758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlairFagin/pseuds/BlairFagin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Dead End interfacing is almost a form of currency, a way to repay someone who helped you. Drift now owes Ratchet and is determined to repay him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Type

Light was fading as Ratchet was locking up the clinic, his back uncomfortably turned to the street. He knew that it was rare that a medic was attacked in the Dead End, most of the residents knew better, but there was always that one idiot too drugged out to know better. Pharma never had the same faith in the downtrodden and outright refused to accompany Ratchet to the clinic. To be fair a elegant flier was a very tempting target compared to a stocky ambulance, medic or not.

“Relax, you look like you’re about to blow a fuse.”

Ratchet almost did when that voice appeared behind him. He spun round, readying himself for a fight when he noticed it was the speedster he had patched up a few days ago. What was his name? Swift? Lift? No, Ratchet remembered now, it was Drift.

“What you doing here?” asked Ratchet, trying to add as much anger to his voice as he could. “You about to blow your processor on syk again?”

Drift circled him with a smile before leaning against the door of the clinic. “No need to play tough, I’m not going to hurt you. Also, I thought it was obvious I’m not on the circuit boosters right now. Just look at me,” said Drift as he gestured to his sleek frame. 

Ratchet had indeed noticed. Unlike the grimy and broken mech who had been dragged into his clinic, this Drift was polished to perfection. 

“Is this supposed to impress me? You know how many of your kind clean themselves up for a day, promising they changed their way, then a week later they’re back in my clinic in an even worse condition?” asked Ratchet with a huff. 

He went to push Drift out the way, so he could finish locking the clinic, but a white hand caught his own. 

“I know that, but I’m not them. I even got myself a job and it’s all because of you. I want to repay you,” said Drift as he moved Ratchet’s hand to his thigh. 

Ratchet was far from dim, he knew exactly what Drift was implying. He wasn’t the first gutter dweller to offer Ratchet as much, in fact most treated interfacing as a form of currency. 

“And where is this new place of employment?” he asked.

“Nuts ‘n’ Bolts, it’s not far from here, just down the street. I can show you the way and we can get a room,” replied Drift, confirming Ratchet’s suspicions.

Nuts ‘n’ Bolts was a well known brothel that poor mechs would splash the last of their credits at. Ratchet often ended up repairing the aftermath of a rough customer, though the pleasure mechs themselves just seemed happy they weren’t on the streets.

Ratchet yanked his hand away. “I’m sorry, but I have a conjunx endura waiting for me at home.”

“You know I wouldn’t care?” replied Drift as he leant in so close he didn’t have to raise his voice above a whisper.

“But I would care,” said Ratchet with a growl. “I’m not the type of person who cheats on their loved one.”

Drift just smiled. “Fair enough, but if you change your mind, you know where I am.”

….

“How was your day?” asked Pharma as he placed Ratchet’s energon down on the small table beside his armchair. 

“Fine,” replied Ratchet, not bothering to look up from the medical journal he was reading. 

“Really?” There was something irritable in Pharma’s voice. It was a tone that he only used when ratchet had done something very wrong.

Ratchet sighed and put his pad away. “What is it now?”

“You haven’t looked at me since you got home and then you didn’t even thank me when I got you your energon just now.”

“I’m sorry, my processor was elsewhere. I had a strange day at the clinic.”

With a grin Pharma sat on the arm of the chair and draped his long legs over Ratchet’s lap. “Well you’re home now and I’m determined to make sure there’s only one thing on your mind, Professor.”

That got Ratchet’s attention. It had been forever since Pharma had been his student, but just the thought of their secret affair in deserted classrooms was enough to get Ratchet’s fuel pump going. He ran his hand up and down Pharma’s leg.

“So you’ve come to visit me after class, have you?”

With a supressed laugh Pharma wrapped his arms round Ratchet’s shoulders. “Yes, Professor, I need to discuss the grade on my latest paper.”

The wings on Pharma’s arms trembled slightly as Ratchet ran a finger along their edge. Oh, how Ratchet loved the sensitive flight frames, so tantalising. The only frame type that could come close were speedster frames, with their sleek plating and rumbling engines. His mind somehow found its way back to Drift, with his thin plating in brilliant white. Without circuit boosters dragging him down Drift was stunning example of how the Dead End hid true gems. With a jolt Ratchet realised he was thinking of someone else while he was with his conjunx. He pulled himself away from the thought of Drift and back to the fantasy Pharma had crafted.

“I think we should discuss your paper somewhere more comfortable, maybe in my berthroom? I could pour you a drink, help you relax.”

Pharma’s optics glowed bright with his lust. “That sounds divine.”

Hours later Ratchet lay in his berth staring at the ceiling. One mech was on his mind and it wasn’t the one that lay beside him. 

….

“Where is Drift?” 

The pretty minibot at the desk looked up from whatever was on his pad. “Do you have an appointment or are you a walk in, because Drift is currently with a client.”

“He asked me to come by,” replied Ratchet, trying to ignore how his face heated.

Seconds later the minibot was stood on his chair, so he could get a better vantage point to examine Ratchet’s arm decorated by a medic’s seal.

“You’re the medic that saved his life, aren’t you? He talks about you constantly, he’s really besotted,” said the mini and then he sat back down to retrieve his pad. “I’ll book you in next and he should be finishing up, so you can go right to his room. It’s down the hallway to the left and his name will be on the door. Enjoy yourself.”

The wink the minibot gave Ratchet almost made him back out. He felt like a dirty pervert, in a brothel in search of a younger mech who had offered his frame out of some sort of belief that he owed Ratchet. He couldn’t back out though, he needed to sort out the mess he was in.

The hallway was narrow and lined with red doors. Above each one was two sets of lights, a red light and a green light. Only one of them was on at a time and Ratchet realised it must mean which were occupied. On the other side of the locked doors there were pleasure mechs servicing clients with their mouths, valves and ports. 

Some of the doors were open though. At first only innocent events were taking place, a pleasurebot downing energon between clients, two workers chatting and laughing. Then it turned depraved. A pleasure mech gasped from a berth as its valve was lapped, another cried out as a crop came down on its aft and one seemed to be the central focus of no less than a dozen huge mechs, one of which had a camera recording the scene unfolding. One door even had two guards posted outside it, both ready to jump in if the client inside violated the rules of whatever twisted agreement had been made. 

Drift’s door was thankfully closed and as Ratchet approached the light went from red to green. A few seconds later it opened and a massive mech, that appeared to be a miner of some sort, exited. When he noticed Ratchet he smirked.

“You here to try out the newbie? You’re in in for a good time, he’s the most flexible mech in here and has nice thick thighs.” The mech then leant in close. “He also won’t gag no matter how deep you fuck his throat. Enjoy yourself in there, buddy.” He then walked away with the strut of a very satisfied mech.

Ratchet didn’t bother knocking, instead he just opened the door and wasn’t surprised to find Drift cleaning his open interface array. 

“We need to talk.”

“Ratchet,” said Drift with a bright smile. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Yes, unfortunately? I need to frag you and be done with it already. I interfaced with my Conjunx last night and all I could think of was fragging you. I need to just get this out of my system already and forget about you.”

Drift smirked and gestured to the large berth in the middle of the room. “Step into my office then and we can get this meeting started.”

Ratchet clenched his fists and took a seat on the berth. “Just make it fast and no kissing, I don’t want to drag this out.”

Those thick thighs appeared in front of Ratchet. “Whatever you want, Ratchet,” whispered Drift and then he pushed Ratchet onto his back and straddled him. “I’m already wet from my last client, so you can just get your spike out and we can get right to it.”

The panel, that had been holding back the fully pressurised spike since Ratchet had stepped in the brothel, retracted and the spike sprung free. With one graceful move Drift hilted himself on it and moaned. 

“Hm, you’re nice and thick. I like that.”

“Just shut up and do your job.”

The heat clutching at his spike was heavenly and it somehow got better as Drift began to move. He bounced on Ratchet’s lap as he braced his hands on the wide chest in front of him. He was so beautiful, head thrown back and mouth open as he panted. Ratchet was trapped, unable to look away despite how much he just wanted to close his eyes and wait for overload. 

So with his eyes wide open Ratchet watched Drift ride him to overload. It was quick, impersonal and almost clinical, exactly what Ratchet had wanted. 

“Well, that was fun,” said Drift as he dismounted Ratchet and stood, transfluid and lubricant dripping down his hefty thighs. 

Ratchet couldn’t help but stare at that swollen and plush valve. He had thought that fragging Drift would lessen his want for him, just like all the students that he had casually fragged back when he was a professor. But all fragging Drift had done was make him want more. He wanted to put his mouth over that valve and suck at the glowing anterior node as Drift screamed. He wanted to bend him over the berth and frag his port raw, while he completely ignored the wanting valve. He wanted to do it all with the door open, so others could watch or drag him the street and take him on his knees like the filthy pleasurebot he was. 

“Ratchet?”

He snapped out of his fantasy and looked at Drift’s face. He had such soft eyes and pouty derma, which Ratchet knew hid cute little fangs. He was gorgeous. 

“I, uh, have time for another round. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Drift’s entire face lit up and he was somehow even more beautiful. “I’d love to, Ratchet. But you’ll have to pay me though.”

Somehow Ratchet hadn’t expected that. Of course the first round would be free, Drift had offered it after all, but more always cost. 

“I forgot to bring my credits.”

“That’s fine, I never wanted your credits. I just wanted you.”

“What?”

Drift leant in close, until their derma were almost brushing. “You can pay me with a kiss, that’s all I want.”

Their fragging had not been intimate, but a kiss would change that all. It would be admitting that there was more to this than he had originally wanted. He would truly be betraying Pharma. He leant forwards and kissed Drift anyway, confessing against Drift’s lips what kind of mech he really was.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little quick fic to get me out of my writing slump.


End file.
